


All That's Left Over

by MathClassWarfare



Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, Camping, Dreams and Nightmares, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Older Gladiolus Amicitia, Older Ignis Scientia, Older Noctis Lucis Caelum, Older Prompto Argentum, Older Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Spoilers, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/pseuds/MathClassWarfare
Summary: It’s a year and change after the Dawn, and four friends are on a well-deserved vacation.





	1. Habits

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [All the Emoji](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6580324) by [CodenameCarrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameCarrot/pseuds/CodenameCarrot). 



> This takes place immediately after the end of my other fic, [Only Human](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15589980), in which Noctis doesn't stay dead like he's supposed to. (It's very short. It was my first fanfic ever!)

It’s nothing like last time. But also, it’s just like last time.

The scenery has changed during their long nightmare, but the road trip soundtrack is mostly the same. Rough highway and bright blue desert sky stretch out ahead of the four friends and their canine companion. There’s a shared feeling of excitement, cut with uncertainty and more than a little fear. 

This is the first time they’ve taken Noctis out of the city since he died. It’s harder for him to hide out here, where there are no crowds to blend into, and fewer dark corners. Prompto, Ignis and Gladio are going to be visiting people who don’t know—and can’t know—that he’s alive. It’s going to hurt to keep the truth from people they love, but there’s no way around it. That’s the deal Noctis made with Shiva, and he’s probably already on thin ice— _ha_ —after revealing himself to the three of them.

Prompto has never been a religious person. Growing up, he was only vaguely aware of the Astrals. He knew their names. He knew the popular holidays. But now, for the first time in his life, he’s been praying. Every night, he thanks the Glacian for bringing Noctis back, and pleads with her to let him stay. He promises to keep the secret, and protect the prophecy. 

Their former king is the driver on this trip, and he looks very cute in his chauffeur cap, so Prompto leans across center console to kiss him on the cheek. Noctis grins at him and drives right over a pothole. This sends Umbra yelping off the back seat, where he’d been nestled between Ignis and Gladio.

“ _Careful_ , please. I would very much prefer that my car survive this trip.” 

Noctis winces and says, “Sorry about that.”

“Sorry Iggy! But who can we talk to about these roads, huh?”

The silence from the back of the car speaks volumes. 

Prompto sinks into his seat and watches the landscape pass by. When the Hammerhead sign comes into view, he turns around to talk to Gladio and Ignis.

“So, should I just run out and deliver these headlights, or . . .?”

“Iggy and I are gonna say ‘hi’ too, right?” Gladio asks.

“Yes,” Ignis agrees. “It wouldn’t be right to pass through without saying hello to Cindy and Cid.”

“Okay, but . . . let’s not take too long.” 

Prompto glances at Noctis, who has a slight frown—probably concentrating on the road. 

“I’m fine,” he says. “I can wait in the car.” 

They pull into the far side of the parking lot, and unload the Crown City headlights that Prompto promised to bring next time he came through. Daemons may not be a threat anymore, but they’re still good headlights. He didn’t warn Cindy that he was stopping by today. He wonders if she’ll even be around.

“Well look who it is! How y’all been?!” 

Sure enough, she emerges from the garage in a bright yellow jump-suit. Shoving her work gloves in a pocket, she spreads her arms wide to hug each of them. Then she smacks Prompto on the arm.

“I didn’t know y’all were comin’ by! I woulda cleared up my day.”

“Yeah . . . sorry.” Prompto doesn’t say that he didn’t tell her because he _knew_ she would do that.

“An impromptu trip, to celebrate the election,” Ignis explains. “I didn’t know if I’d be able to get away, but everything seems to be going along swimmingly, so here we are.” 

It’s only half a lie.

“That your car, Ignis? She’s a beauty. Look at those curves.” 

“That it is. Amazingly, it survived the fall of Insomnia and the end of the world without a scratch—safely stowed in a parking garage.”

“Let’s hope it survives this trip,” Gladio chuckles. 

“Who’s that sitting over there?”

“My driver, Nemo. He had some phone calls to make.”

“He-he’s real shy,” Prompto adds. That’s not a lie—not really—but this is starting to feel _bad_.

“Your _driver_ , well ain’t you fancy, Mr. Scientia,” Cindy grins. “For the best, though. You don’t want Prompto behind the wheel—sorry sweetie.”

“Hey! That’s . . . fair.” His last attempt to drive Cindy’s truck got him permanently banned, for allegedly ‘abusing the clutch.’

“Well, I better get back to it—monster of a deadline today. Go see Paw Paw, he’s nappin’ but he’ll be real mad if he finds out y’all were here and didn’t see ‘im.” 

“Okay, but Ignis should wake him up. I can’t get away with that shit.” Prompto shakes his head.

Ignis wakes Cid, whose rage immediately dissipates when he realizes who it is. Then they all catch up over tea, and Ignis promises to bring along some seafood stew next time. 

Before they leave, Cindy hugs Prompto goodbye and plants a kiss on the side of his head. “It’s good to see ya, Sunshine. Don’t be a stranger, y’hear?”

“Good to see you too, Cindy. I won’t.” 

He wonders if Noctis is watching them in the mirror. They have an understanding—certain things they don’t talk about from that decade he was gone—but Prompto still worries that maybe it bothers him.

As they climb back into the car, Gladio whispers to Ignis, “See? What did I tell you?”

Ignis frowns and shakes his head. “None of that, now.”

“What are you guys talking about back there?” Prompto leans between the seats.

“Oh, Ignis still won’t admit he lost a bet. Can’t stand to be wrong.” 

“That’s not even remotely true, and I’d like to change the subject.” 

“I’m starting to get the feeling I don’t want to know,” Noctis says, reversing the car. He pulls out of the parking lot, and they’re on their way again.

Prompto’s too curious to let it go. “What’s the bet?” 

Gladio looks him right in the eyes, smiling. “That you finally hooked up with Cindy.”

“Wha-why?” Prompto whips back into his seat. 

“What the fuck, Gladio?!” Noctis glares into the rearview mirror, and the car picks up speed. “Was that necessary?”

Prompto turns to Noctis and opens his mouth to say something, but he’s not sure what.

“No. You don’t have to,” Noctis interrupts. “I, I don’t need to know. Really.” He keeps his eyes on the road, but puts a hand on Prompto’s knee.

“Excellent work, Gladio. We’re off to a great start.” Ignis takes a sip from his coffee thermos, and adds, “Please drive carefully, Noct.”

“I _am_.” 

Umbra whines.

After way too much silence and glowering, Gladio says, “Now that I think about it, Iggy’s right. I was wrong. He couldn’t have.”

Maybe this shouldn’t bother Prompto, but it does. He scrunches up his brow and asks, “Why not?”

“Because,” Gladio continues, “there’s no way you hooked up with your dream girl and didn’t brag about it.” 

Ignis nods. “That is exactly what _I’ve_ been saying. When has he ever been quiet about a victory?” 

Noctis laughs. “He sings a fanfare when he fries an egg properly.”

“Oh, so we’re back to making fun of me now? Cool. Fun vacation.” Prompto tries to act offended, but there’s a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth. He’s relieved that everyone is getting along again.

“You’re fine.” Noctis pulls Prompto’s knuckles to his lips, and smiles.

Prompto smiles back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I humbly accept my role in this group. Happy to be the jester, Your Majesty.” 

“Hey, you can’t call me that anymore. The king is dead, and this is a democracy.”

They pull off the road at a Kenny’s late in the afternoon, and leave the dog in the car with the top down. Noctis eyes the mascot out front warily. It looks even more menacing than usual, with chipped and peeling paint. Did it just move?  


“Don’t be scared of Kenny!” Prompto slaps him on the back, pushing him through the door. “He just wants to give you a mouthful of happiness!” 

Noctis shudders and tries not to think of his recurring nightmare involving Kenny Crow and a bottle of Jetty’s. Maybe he should mention it to Prompto later, though—so he’ll stop saying _that_. 

Aside from the waitress, the diner is empty. They all look at their menus, even though they already know what’s on them. 

Prompto bumps Noctis with his shoulder. “Whatcha gonna order No-“ He stops short, and freezes for a moment, before saying, “N-not salad, I bet.” Then he jumps to his feet, asks Noctis to order him a cheeseburger, and rushes out the door.

“That was a bit too close for comfort,” Ignis mutters under his breath.

“It’s fine.” Gladio shuts his menu. “She’s not even paying attention to us.” 

As if on cue, the waitress comes by the table with a pot of coffee. 

“Afternoon, y’all. Coffee?”

“Please.” Ignis turns over a little white mug for her to fill.

“Anybody else?”

After they order, Noctis goes outside to see where Prompto went, and finds him crouched against the outside wall, eyes squeezed shut, breathing too fast and whispering to himself. 

“Hey.” Noctis crouches down in front of Prompto, and he opens his eyes. “Breathe, okay?”

Prompto takes a deep breath, and lets it out slowly, while Noctis holds his hands. Then he does it again. And again.

When he’s breathing more normally, Noctis asks, “What’s wrong? What are you doing back here?”

“I’m . . . It’s dumb.” Prompto stands, and Noctis follows. 

“Tell me, please.” 

“I almost messed up and said your name back there. So I was praying. To like, apologize.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I told you. Dumb. Why would the Astrals listen to me?”

“No. It’s not. I get it.” Noctis leans forward to kiss him. “And I think they do listen to you. I probably wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“You really think so?”

Noctis nods. “C’mon. I’m hungry.” 

They refill Umbra’s water dish before rejoining their friends in the diner. When the food arrives, Noctis lifts the bun on his burger and he’s disappointed by what he sees. 

“I definitely said no lettuce and tomatoes,” he mutters—not loud enough for the waitress to hear. He doesn’t want to be rude.

“Are you kidding me?” Gladio asks. “You’re a grown man and you still won’t eat your vegetables?”

While he calmly dissects his burger, Noctis explains, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that life is short. Every meal could be your last. So why waste it eating something you don’t like?”

Prompto nods and says, “Very wise. Give me your tomatoes.” 

“Thank you. Here.”

“Hard to argue with that.” Ignis lifts his bun to receive the unwanted lettuce. 

“Enablers, both of you,” Gladio says, and takes a bite.


	2. Memory

Gladio has joined Prompto and Umbra on their morning run. This morning, it’s along the beach near Galdin Quay, where they’ve set up camp. 

The humans are jogging side by side when Gladio says, “Hey, I wanted to say sorry. For that stuff with Cindy yesterday.”

Prompto frowns and shakes his head. “Nah, it’s no biggie.”

“I was out’a line. I should’a known it’s a touchy subject.”

Footfalls in the sand and lapping waves are the only sound, while Prompto thinks about how much he wants to share with his friend. Gladio can be kind of an asshole sometimes, but he really cares about all of them. He has their backs when it counts. 

“It is, and it isn’t,” Prompto says, finally. “When Noct was gone, I felt so lost. Cindy was there when I needed her. And I was there when she needed me. And . . . we’re real good friends.”

Gladio hums in understanding, and nods.

Prompto catches sight of their campsite as they approach the end of the route. He looks at their tent as he says, “It’s all about Noct, you know? He’s the one for me. It’s always been him.” 

Gladio smiles, and puts a hand on Prompto’s shoulder. “I know.”

Prompto laughs, embarrassed, “Didn’t mean to get sappy, this early in the morning.” 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

When they return to camp, Gladio joins Ignis by the fire pit and Prompto goes back to the tent he and Noctis share.

He peels off his t-shirt and crawls under the sleeping bag to curl around his best friend. Noctis stirs and settles back against him, half asleep and murmuring, “You’re sweaty.” 

“ _Mhmmm_.” Prompto kisses the bump at the top of his spine.

“You have a good run?” Noctis asks through a yawn.

“ _Mhmmm_.” Prompto nods and buries his nose in messy black hair.

“Good.”

From outside the tent, they can hear their friends talking, and the sounds of Gladio cooking breakfast—he brought along pancake mix and sausages. The dog is out there too, watching Gladio’s every move. 

They’ve got fifteen minutes, at least.

Noctis rolls over, opens his eyes, and says, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Prompto grins, admiring the three-day beard and wild bedhead of the man he loves. He breathes deep, and falls in.

It’s weird. It feels wrong. 

Noctis is here, on this beautiful sunny day, standing on the pier with his friends, but his mind keeps bringing him back to the last time he was in this place. It was the end of the world, when he was newly freed from the Astrals’ prison and preparing for his own death. Today, he’s alive, and so many others are not. He’s trying to not look directly at the island when he notices that he has Umbra’s attention. He wonders if the dog remembers too.

They walk back towards the parking lot. Prompto points out that someone restored the caravan they used to stay in sometimes during the Long Night—before a red giant sliced through the fence and it wasn’t secure anymore. Now it looks like a construction crew is using it while they work on the restaurant and ferry terminal restoration.

Outside the shuttered Mother of Pearl, there’s a collection of candles, photographs, drawings, and tissue-paper flowers. It’s a memorial for the fallen: people who lived and worked here, and those who were just passing through—all the people who couldn’t get away in time.

They sit quietly for awhile and pay their respects. Ignis leaves a token behind—a recipe card. It’s probably something he thought Coctura would have enjoyed. Noctis leaves a pretty rock he found on the beach, for Dino. 

They drive to Lestallum and Noctis drops his friends off. They’ve all got people to visit—people who knew Noctis before he died—so he has to stay out of sight. He stops a little way up the road and parks the car near a bridge. Umbra rushes down the stairs like he knows where they’re going and can’t wait to get there.

It’s quiet down at the edge of the creek. There’s no sign of any monster crabs or giant snakes. If anything nasty does show up, Noctis will be ready with his gun—the only weapon he really feels comfortable with, now that he can’t warp. He sits on a big rock and takes in the sun-dappled babbling creek and the waterfall, while Umbra sniffs around and splashes in the water. It’s nice. It’s peaceful. It’s lonely.

Noctis used to crave solitude. Growing up, he was always trying to get away: from his classmates with their inane questions and gawking faces; from the Crownsguard shadows he could never shake; and from his father, with all his expectations and disappointment. Now that he’s a ghost, he’s finding himself alone more and more by circumstance, rather than by choice. It sucks.

Right now, it’s not so bad though. It’s a gorgeous day and he has a job to do. Gladio heard there were wild fish in this area—Sania’s efforts to re-populate the rivers and lakes are finally paying off. So Noctis promised everyone that he would catch dinner, and he’s not about to disappoint them. 

He opens his tackle box and chooses a lure and sinker to tie onto the line, then he lets muscle-memory take over—winding back, then snapping his arm forward again with a flick of the wrist. There’s a satisfying _plop_ as the rig hits the water. Sparkling ripples radiate from the line.  


Now, he just has to wait.

The Meteor headquarters is crowded with too much furniture, old computers, and boxes of papers. The fan on Vyv’s desk is doing very little to cut through the stuffy afternoon heat. They really need to get air conditioning.

“Hey, do you wanna go outside? It’s too fucking hot in here, man.” Prompto wipes the sweat off of his forehead with a bandana. 

“Good idea. Let’s walk and talk.” Vyv grabs a notepad and tells his assistant, Darius, that he’ll be back in an hour.

They discuss photo editing software and feature ideas for the Insomnia Edition as they walk down to the overlook, where there’s usually a nice breeze. 

It’s busy with people enjoying the view and eating meat on sticks. Nobody spent any time in this part of Lestallum during the Long Night—it was on the wrong side of the barricade. Now it seems like everybody wants to take advantage of what they were missing. The parking lot is full, and the prices have gone up since the last time Prompto was here.

“Okay, kid.” Vyv leans against the railing. “Alice said you might have a pitch for me. Some artsy feature.”

Prompto was not prepared for this. “Oh? Uh, yeah, I mean, there’s a thing we’ve been talking about. Just an idea, really.” 

“So pitch!” Vyv flaps the notepad in his hand.

“Okay! Well, I’m taking this road trip with my friends, right? And I was thinking I would take lots of pictures. Like I do.” Prompto holds up his camera.

“ _Uh huh_ . . . and?” 

“And Alice is all up in the underground poetry scene, right? So we thought we could get some of those guys to submit poetry about these different places in Lucis—like how things have changed so much, and how in some ways they haven’t. And we’d have pictures of those places, too.” Prompto shrugs. “Like I said, it’s just an idea. Maybe it’s dumb.”

“ _Nah_ , kid. I like it!” Vyv holds up his hands to frame an imaginary headline.“‘Lucis After the Dawn.’ Or, ‘Lucis: Where We Are Now.’ Or ‘Lucis: Road to Rebirth.’ So many possibilities. I’ll leave that to you and Alice though. Great idea.”

“Thanks!” Prompto grins. “Selfie with the Disc?”

“ _Psshht_. Sure.”

Parting ways with his boss, Prompto heads across the street to a sidewalk cafe, where he’s meeting the others for lunch. 

Iris jumps to her feet and waves when she sees him. She and Talcott have just spent the morning in meetings with Ignis. They’re all wearing crisp white button-down shirts. Prompto hugs the new MP and her chief of staff, and accepts the beer Talcott hands him. 

“Thanks buddy,” he says, and takes a sip. “How’s it goin’?”

Iris sighs dramatically, but she’s smiling. “It’s good! _Busy_ , but it’s been really, really good.” She puts a hand on Talcott’s shoulder. “Thanks to this guy. _Oh my gods_. He is just amazing. But you already knew that.” 

Tearing off a hunk of roti, Gladio says, “Just make sure you all remember to eat, and get enough sleep.” 

“Yes, sir.” Talcott nods.

“Of course, Gladdy.” Iris takes an exaggerated bite of rice and curry, and smiles sarcastically at her brother while she chews.

Ignis says, “You should have a look at the housing package they’ve put together, Prompto. It’s very exciting.” 

“Yeah?” Prompto glances at Talcott, who’s absolutely beaming. Ignis is still his hero, after all.

“I can email it to you,” he offers.

Prompto nods, and swallows. “Please do.” 

“Eviction protections, allowing cities to create affordable housing set-asides, and opening the door to rent control. Quite comprehensive.” Ignis smiles and sips his beer.

“Right on!” Prompto raises his hand for a high five, and Iris delivers.

“Man . . .” Gladio laughs softly. “My baby sister, and little Talcott. All grown up and rebuilding our society.” 

“Stop!” Iris smacks Gladio on the arm. “And we’re all rebuilding together.”

“Cheers to that,” Prompto raises his bottle, and the others follow suit.

A sudden sadness passes over Talcott’s face, and he says, “To King Noctis. He sacrificed everything to save this world. Let’s do our part to take care of it.”

Prompto and Gladio share an uncomfortable glance across the table as everyone says, “To Noctis!”

A toast to the memory of their king, who is probably fishing at the moment, less than a mile away.


	3. Taste

The woods near the Vesperpool are still impressive. The canopy sways above their heads, and sunlight filters through, down to the wildflowers. It’s a wonder that all these plants survived the scourge and the Long Night.

It’s late morning, after another night sleeping under the stars. Iris was annoyed—of course—that they weren’t staying the night at her place in Lestallum, but Gladio convinced her that they had to get back on the road. The truth is, there isn’t nearly enough time built into this trip to do all the things they’d like to do. But at the moment at least, they aren’t in a hurry.

Noctis is walking with Prompto along the path toward the lake, when he spots a platform high off the ground, surrounding the trunk of a big tree—a stand for the hunters. He stops and points. 

“Hey, look!” 

“ _Hmm_?” 

“Remember?”

He sets down his rod and tackle box and wraps his arms around Prompto’s back. They kiss once, and again, before Prompto murmurs into his lips, “ _Ohhh_. Yeah. Now I remember.”

Years ago, when they were traveling through here, and Noctis was crazy-in-love with his best friend, he’d done some uncharacteristic planning ahead. He’d decided he was going to surprise Prompto with a picnic when they got to the fishing spot, but then he saw this tree stand. He suggested that they go up there to check out the view, and of course Prompto agreed. Then he warped ahead and unpacked his backpack with record speed, laying out a blanket, sandwiches and drinks. Everything was all set up, so when Prompto finally reached the top of the ladder, Noctis got to watch his expression change from annoyed to delighted, like he’d flipped a switch. That was a _really_ good day—a memory Noctis conjured again and again during his long imprisonment.

This time, they both have to climb the ladder. The structure looks like it’s in good condition—the hunters probably still use it—but they move slowly and carefully just in case. On the ground, below, Umbra digs himself a comfy hole to nap in.

The view is just as breathtaking as Noctis remembers. Prompto pulls out his camera and takes several shots of the landscape, before turning it on Noctis. 

“Did you bring wine coolers again this time? Are you hiding them in your pockets?” 

Noctis laughs. “I forgot about that!”

“ _Oooh_. That’s gonna be a good one. Too bad I can’t publish it.” He lowers his camera. “You know you’re really fucking beautiful when you laugh?” 

“You know I’m not gonna to have sex with you up here on this,” Noctis looks down, “splintery wood, right?”

“Awww, you’re no fun.” 

Prompto pulls Noctis down to sit with him, curling around his back and resting his chin on Noctis’s shoulder. He says, “Should’a brought a blanket.”

“And wine coolers.”

That gets them both laughing again.

Prompto wipes his eyes. “Gross.” 

“They were in the cooler! I think _you_ bought them.”

“Did not! I blame Iris. She was the right age.”

Noctis _tsks_. “Not everyone was a delinquent like you.”

“Sure they were- Hey did I ever tell you my childhood wine cooler saga?”

“What? No, you haven’t! Please.”

“How have I not told you this already? Okay, so I used to do the grocery shopping because my parents didn’t have time, and this lady who worked at the store—I think she was the owner or something—got to know who I was. One time, she let me buy this bottle of wine that my dad needed for cooking. She didn’t care that I wasn’t old enough to buy it, because it was for my parents, right?”

“I see where this is going,” Noctis smiles and shifts position in Prompto’s arms.

“Oh you have no idea. So, I realize that I can just buy whatever the fuck I want if I say it’s for my parents, right?”

“Clearly.”

“So I’m like . . . 12? I think? And I don’t know anything about drinking, so I go in one day and grab a six-pack of Bonum’s Farm—strawberry or something—and bring it to the register. My palms were sweaty—so nervous—and the lady looks at it and raises an eyebrow, but she doesn’t say anything. She just rings me up, and I pay, and I walk out of there triumphant with my ill-gotten garbage booze.”

Noctis is giggling now.

“ _Shhh_ , listen. Okay, so I keep doing this, right? For _weeks_.”

“Wait, where did you keep them?”

“In my room!”

“Oh my gods, Prompto, that’s so much worse! You drank them _warm_?!”

“Where else was I gonna to keep it?! My dad would see it in the fridge. Anyway I did this for weeks, and then one day, I get home from school and my mom is home already—not sure why—and I can tell immediately that she is _pissed_.”

“Uh oh. She found your stash of empty bottles?”

“No! I always recycled that shit on the way to school. She went grocery shopping, Noct!”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah! So, she looks at me and she says, ‘Please explain why Mrs. Falco at the store asked me if I wasn’t going to buy any Bonum’s Farm?’ And I had . . . no response. I just confessed. I was crying, and she was yelling at me, and the thing I remember most is that she didn’t seem that mad that I was _drinking_. I think she was more mad that I made her look trashy to the store owner, ‘cause she thought she liked wine coolers.”

Noctis swivels his head to give Prompto a sympathetic look and says, “She was probably mad about both,” before sinking back again.

Prompto squeezes him. “Maybe. I dunno. Anyway, she made me go with her back to the store and explain what I did. And I had to apologize to Mrs. Falco for lying—ironic—and then my mom said something menacing about how she wouldn’t report her for selling to minors if she promised never to sell alcohol to me again—kinda unfair since they sent me in there to buy wine in the first place, but whatever.”

“So you were cut off?”

“I just started drinking my parents’ liquor.”

“Relatable.” Noctis nods.

“I don’t think I drank another wine cooler until we were up here that time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this amazing story back then?”

“I’m sure I was going to, but I got distracted.” Prompto kisses Noctis on the neck, and runs his hands across his chest and stomach, slipping fingers under the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re not really scared of a couple splinters, are you?” 

“We have a perfectly good tent back there! Our own tent!”

“Good point. Did you still want to go fishing?”

Noctis pretends to consider this for a moment before he turns around, burying his hands in Prompto’s hair and pulling him in for a kiss that should make the answer obvious. 

Still, he says, “No, I am not interested in fishing right now. C’mon, let’s go.”

Sunlight dances across across Prompto’s bright grin and his freckles as they hurry back to camp, and Noctis can’t get over how very, very lucky he is.


	4. Words

He goes back there, sometimes.  
All alone. Cut off from the ones he loves.  
In the dark, or in the blue glow of tanks that hold all those others who have his face.  
He has to get out—he has to get home.  
And then he wakes up, and he is.  


He goes back there, sometimes.  
All alone. Cut off from the ones he loves.  
In the dark, or in the blue glow of another place, home to a god that might have his face.  
He has to get out—he has to get home.  
And then he wakes up, and he is.  


Prompto opens his eyes with a startled gasp, and rubs his hands across them. He sees that Noctis is awake already, sitting up and writing in his journal. The dog must be outside.

“Fucking nightmares,” he grumbles, pulling himself into Noctis’s lap and wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Yeah? Me too.” With his free hand, Noctis brushes lazy circles on Prompto’s back.

“Whatcha’ writing?”

“Poem.” He puts his pencil down. “I think it might be finished.” 

He passes the notebook, and Prompto finds his glasses. 

It says:

> _Your skin_
> 
> _The whole point of having hands is this:_  
>  _Smoothing over uncovered secrets that used to weigh so much,_  
>  _back when you carried them alone;_  
>  _Reviewing the evidence of my failures, etched on the surface of my joy;_  
>  _Wiping away salt-spray from old storms that still rage sometimes;_  
>  _And tracing those sun-drenched constellations that guide me back home again,_  
>  _every time._

He reads it silently to himself three times, then looks up, watery-eyed, at Noctis. He has no words.

“So? What do you think?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Is it any good?”

Prompto nods, laughing. “Yeah. Send it to Alice.” He puts the notebook down and reaches out to Noctis. “You really know how to make a guy feel good about his freckles.”

Noctis leans forward and teases, “Oh you think it’s about _you?”_

Ignis is sitting in the shade, sipping coffee, when Noctis approaches with the moka pot. 

“Refill?” 

Ignis holds out his cup. “I was just thinking I could use a warm-up. Thank you, Noct.”

“No prob. I’m just the server—Prompto made it. Look out.” 

“That sounds like an endorsement.” Ignis takes a sip and nods. “Good and strong!” he shouts back toward the cooking station.

Prompto’s on breakfast duty this morning—scrambled eggs and toast. He pumps a fist in the air over his coffee victory.

“So is it weird that it’s all over? The election?” Noctis asks.

Ignis purses his lips, then replies, “It’s lovely, actually. Until now, I don’t know that I’ve really had a chance to relax since . . .”

“Since I died?”

“It’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it is.”

They sit in silence for a few breaths before Noctis says, “Sorry I left you with such a mess to clean up.”

Ignis wrinkles his brow. “Are you referring to the country, or are we speaking more literally, because I don’t recall the starscourge or the Empire’s reign of terror being even remotely your fault.”

Noctis smiles and kicks at the dirt. “Good point, I should really apologize for the state of my apartment back in the day.”

Ignis just raises his eyebrows and takes another sip.

“Man. I’m sorry you had to put up with so much shit from me—and not just the messiness. I know I was . . . difficult, sometimes. A lot of times. I really appreciate . . . everything.”

Ignis nods once, as if to say ‘Don’t mention it.’ Then he smiles, and says, “You’ve come very far, Noct. Let’s leave it at that. We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, after all.”

“Right,” Noctis laughs. “Seriously though—thanks, for believing in me. It’s because of you that I ever made it out of . . . that place.” He thinks of cold stone walls, a narrow shaft of light, and endless waiting.

“What was it like?” Ignis asks gently. “If you don’t mind talking about it.”

He does mind, a little, but Ignis of all people might be able to understand. Maybe he could help make some kind of sense of it, so it can stop haunting him. And Ignis actually wants to talk about this. The couple of times he’s brought up the missing decade to Prompto, it seemed to really upset him, and Noctis doesn’t want to hurt him any more than he already has.

Noctis leans back in the chair, closes his eyes, and says, “It’s hard to describe.” 

He’s going to try anyway.

They pull in to Meldacio just before sundown, and just in time to catch up with Sania over meat pies. There was much debate in the car over whether Noctis should come along. 

Gladio made the final call, since he knows her best, and he doesn’t think she’ll recognize him. She was always so busy and focused on her work, she didn’t know who he was—aside from Gladio’s friend—when they were criss-crossing Lucis collecting frogs for her. It wasn’t until after Noctis disappeared, when they were all spending so much time together in Lestallum, that she found out that the rest of them were royal retainers. Plus, Noctis looks different than he did back then. In all the photos and memorials, the last King of Lucis is barely twenty.

“Hey there, beautiful!” Gladio shouts across the road to where Sania is waiting for them. She’s sitting at one of the plastic tables outside the general store. 

“Hello boys!” She waves.

“Sania, this is our friend, Nemo.” Gladio puts a hand on Noctis’s shoulder. “Meet Doctor Sania Yeagre.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she says. They shake hands. So far, so good.

“It’s an honor Doctor Yeagre. I’ve heard a lot about your work. Thank you.”

She squints at Noctis for a moment, studying him. Then the moment passes and she says, “You should thank your friends here. They helped immensely with my research over the years. And please, call me Sania.” 

“And this is Umbra!” Prompto leans forward to scratch the dog behind the ears.

“Hello! Aren’t you a magnificent creature?” Sania crouches down in front of Umbra and pets the fur on his chest. He sniffs her face, then lets his mouth hang open cheerfully. 

“Such a lovely dog.”

“Thanks,” Prompto says, as if he is in any way responsible for Umbra’s loveliness.

After they’re seated, the proprietor comes by to take their order. Ignis and Sania have a very detailed conversation about fish reproduction that Prompto can’t even begin to follow. Noctis appears to be listening intently though, and mentions his catch in the creek near Lestallum.

Their food arrives, interrupting the fish talk. Noctis slides the contents of a skewer directly onto Prompto’s plate. He moves a few hunks of meat back to his own, and throws one to Umbra. Prompto just smiles and pops a grilled onion into his mouth.

“So where did you two meet?” Sania asks, before taking a bite of meat pie.

“Insomnia,” Prompto answers. “We went to school together.”

“Is that so? Small world.”

“Yeah.” He glances at Noctis. “And after we were both back home, we ran into each other.” 

He feels his best friend’s hand slide into his own—a wordless message that everything’s going to be alright. 

Noctis says, “Now I’m driving for Ignis. It’s a good gig.”

“I imagine you enjoy many fascinating conversations, sitting in Crown City traffic.”

“Definitely. Not much traffic these days, though.”

Ignis smiles.

By closing time, the tabletop is covered with pastry flakes and empty beer bottles, and Sania has already recruited her new friend to help log and report wild fish sightings. Noctis stands, yawning, and steadies himself on the tabletop. 

“Should we just stay here tonight?” Prompto asks. “You don’t look like you want to drive, dude.”

Noctis shrugs. “Anywhere I can get coffee this late?”

Gladio drapes an arm over Sania’s shoulder. “Well, I’m in no hurry to leave.”

“Come back to my place!” She declares. “I’ve got room enough for at least two of you.”

Ignis says, “That sounds like an excellent idea, but we don’t want to crowd you. The caravan might be available. Prompto?”

“Yeah, lemme check!” 

Prompto runs over and sure enough, the place is empty and unlocked. He signs in on the clipboard that hangs inside the door, and grabs an envelope to put their payment in the dropbox. Then he returns to his friends with two thumbs up.

Yawning again, Noctis says, “In that case, I might just go to bed now. Sorry to be like that.” 

“No apologies necessary my young friend. Sleep well, and join us at my place for breakfast. Your boyfriend knows where it is.” 

Prompto grins. “Yep.” 

They say goodnight, and Gladio, Ignis and Sania walk off down the road. 

“ _Boyfriend?_ ” Noctis says, wrinkling his face, as they pass through the caravan door. “Are you my boyfriend?”

Prompto laughs, “Sure, why not? What else would I be?”

“I dunno. It feels, like, inadequate.”

“ _Hmmm_ , maybe.”

They put their guns on the table, brush their teeth in the tiny bathroom, and leave their clothes in a pile before crawling into a narrow bed. Noctis wraps an arm around Prompto, and traces one of the scars on his chest. After a moment, he says, “You’re my best friend.”

“ _Mmhmm_. BFFs. Forever.”

“But it’s more than that, right?”

Prompto rolls over and runs his thumb across the stubble lining Noctis’s jaw. He asks, “Have we never talked about this before?”

“Have we?”

“Don’t thinks so.”

“That’s funny.”

Prompto kisses him softly, then offers, “I’d say that you’re my person. My most important, most favorite person.” 

“Yeah.” Noctis smiles and touches his face. “That’s how I feel too. You’re the best person I know. You’re my . . . my Prompto.”

Laughing, Prompto says, “And you’re my Noct! But I can’t call you that in public, so maybe you’re my boyfriend after all!” 

“Only in public, though,” Noctis deadpans.

“Ironic.”

He nods and weaves his fingers into the hair at the back of Prompto’s head, pulling him in. Their breath mingles, hot and minty. Then they’re kissing and rearranging their limbs to fit together close, closer, so close that Prompto almost loses track of where he ends and Noctis begins. It’s all so _right_ and so so wonderful, and it certainly wouldn’t hurt to send a prayer of thanks to the gods right now, so he does.


	5. Momentum

Times like this are why Noctis honestly loves driving—winding along the coast, salt smell and wave crashes wafting through the open windows, listening to his dearest friends sing along at the tops of their lungs to 20-year old rock music. He feels good. He almost forgets. 

When the lighthouse comes into view he pulls the car over, but lets the engine run until the song is finished.

On their way up the path, Prompto says, “I never knew you liked grunge, Iggy!” 

“It’s a good song. I’m a fan of good music, regardless of genre.” 

Gladio half-smiles. “Ignis has dragged me along to some _interesting_ shows over the years.”

“Well, I apologize if I over-estimated your spirit of adventure. Or your taste.”

“Hey, now.” 

Umbra runs ahead, barking cheerfully to encourage the rest of them.

Caem is lovely, and sleepy. All the people who might have known Noctis have already moved on, back to Insomnia, Lestallum, or Altissia. Ignis said that those who remain are mostly residents of the area from before everything went to shit, plus refugees from Niflheim who decided to stay.

They reach their destination—a pile of stones their friends arranged into a makeshift grave more than a decade ago. Sitting at the base are some dried flowers and a few candle stubs.

Gladio lays a hand on the largest stone—carved with Jared Hester’s name—and closes his eyes for a long moment. Noctis can only guess what he must be thinking, since he’s not big on sharing. He imagines that Gladio still feels as guilty as he does. The empire murdered Jared because he was a steward for House Amicitia, and because the Amicitias stayed loyal to Noctis after Insomnia fell. When Gladio steps away to look out over the ridge, Umbra trots over and leans against his leg, offering comfort. Dogs are the best counselors.

Then Noctis crouches down beside the grave, and loses himself in the churn of his thoughts. He watches a parade of faces—lives cut short so the Chosen King could fulfill his destiny. Yet here he is, alive and well, and undeserving. He thinks about his friends’ scars—physical and otherwise. He aches with the inability to do anything about it now, and his failure to save them back then. He thinks about Luna, who he left behind in the next world, after she gave up everything for him—for Eos. Noctis realizes that he’s crying now, and Prompto has come and wrapped his arms around him from behind. 

Ignis crouches next to them. Softly, he says, “It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. You did well. We all did.”

He says this a lot. Noctis wonders if he’s actually starting to believe that shit, and lets out a bitter laugh. Prompto squeezes him tighter. 

The wave of gratitude that Noctis feels for his friends is all mixed up with cascading guilt—new transgressions building on all the old ones. They shouldn’t be consoling _him_ , but they are. He knows they’re trying to help, so in a strangled voice, he makes himself say, “Thanks.” 

“You may not agree,” Ignis adds, “but we’ll keep saying it anyway.” 

“Uh huh.” Prompto kisses his temple.

 _Why?_ Noctis doesn’t ask out loud.

When Gladio returns to the gravestone, Prompto lets go with a small sigh. Noctis accepts Gladio’s outstretched hand, and pulls himself back up to his feet. Both of them have the same haunted look in their eyes. Words aren’t necessary at the moment, as Noctis embraces the man who was once his shield. 

It’s a reminder: to keep going, to do his best, to not let them down. It’s the least he can do, after all those years his friends and his people spent without him—fighting, scraping by, making impossible choices, and watching in terror as the world grew darker every day. It’s the least he can do, after all those years he made his dad, his teachers, Ignis and Gladio, drag him, kicking and screaming like a child, towards his duty. And then when he finally did what he trained and prepared to do, what he was born to do—to rid the world of scourge in exchange for his own life—he didn’t even have the decency to stay dead. 

He tries to focus on right now, on the fierce hug of the one friend he can count on to be perfectly, brutally, honest with him. And Noctis wonders what good his regrets are now. What good it does anybody, to turn them over again and again and again. It feels self-centered.

Gladio pulls away and looks him in the eyes, nodding once. Noctis nods back. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he can not fuck up this time. He’s not even anybody important anymore, so the consequences of his mistakes aren’t so dire. Now that Noctis Lucis Caelum is dead and gone, he can just focus on being kind, being a good friend and partner, and making sure Umbra is happy with his new, mundane life. Just as he’s thinking about this, Noctis feels a furry snout shoving its way into his hand. He pets Umbra across the face, the top of the head, and scratches between his ears. The dog looks up at him— all bright eyes and tongue hanging out the side of his mouth—as if to say, ‘See? It’s pretty good.’ 

Noctis sniffs, dries his eyes, and smiles at each of his friends. “I really do love you guys.”

They’re traveling back through Duscae, past falling-over barns, dilapidated houses and still-shuttered service stations, when Prompto sees something remarkable. He asks Noctis if they can pull over.

They’re pretty far from any city or outpost, but there’s somebody out here riding a tractor with a tiller dragging behind.

He hops out of the car and Noctis shouts, “Be careful! Do you know them?!” 

Umbra barks with excitement from the back seat.

The tractor comes to a stop, and the woman riding it hops off and walks toward the edge of the road to meet him.

“Hiya!” Prompto grins. “You’re farming this land?” 

“Will be. Come spring.” She scratches her neck. “Just cleaning up and turning over the soil right now.”

“That’s rad!”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, and he says, “Oh, sorry. I’m Prompto Argentum, with the Meteor—the newspaper.” He holds out his hand and she shakes it.

“Yeah, I know it. Marcella Planta. Pleased to meet you.”

Marcella has white hair, tied up in a dark blue bandana. She looks young and tough, with a kind smile.

“Mind if I take your picture with the tractor?” Prompto holds up his camera.

“Sure, why not. Should I drive it?”

“Maybe I’ll take a couple of you standing next to the tractor, and then some driving it. That okay?”

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Prompto’s getting some great shots, when he hears his friends’ footsteps coming up from the road. 

“Hello there,” Marcella calls out, shading her eyes with a hand.

“Hey guys! This is Marcella—she just bought this farm.” The dog runs up to Prompto, so he introduces him first. “This is Umbra, and that’s Nemo, Gladio, and _the_ Ignis Scientia.”

She looks wide-eyed at Ignis, and says, “Gosh, it’s so nice to meet you. Thank you for all you’ve done.” 

Ignis shakes her hand and says, “I was only playing my part. All of Lucis accomplished this together. Thank _you_ for venturing back out into farm country.” 

“Well I’m a farmer, what else am I gonna do?” She drops to one knee to greet Umbra, and he flips onto his back for a belly rub. Marcella coos at him, and obliges.

“Were you not in Lestallum?” Ignis asks, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

Prompto shrugs. There were a _lot_ of people in Lestallum. They couldn’t have met everyone, but Ignis has a really good memory.

Gladio furrows his brow and points a finger in the air. “Were you . . .” he begins.

“Meldacio, actually,” she answers. “I think I saw you around, with the scientist, Doctor Yeagre.”

“I thought you looked familiar.” Gladio grins. 

“We came through with Aranea Highwind’s people. They helped us—my sister and I—get out of Niflheim.”

Prompto raises his eyebrows, “You’re from Niflheim! So am I, well, originally. I’m adopted.” 

“Thought you might be.” Her smile is gentle, and a little sad.

Gladio says, “Not a lot of farmers in the Empire, from what I’ve heard.”

Frowning, Marcella looks away, over her freshly turned field. “My folks were farmers, but we lost our land after the battle against your goddess, Shiva. It’s under ice, now. Still, they taught me what they could, from books and stories, and working in greenhouses.” 

She smiles again, “Ever since I was a girl I’ve dreamt of coming here, to Lucis, to start my own farm. Wish it didn’t have to happen like this, but I’m happy.”

Prompto knows better than to ask about her sister. 

They promise to return next summer, when Marcella expects her first crops. Then it’s back on the road again. 

Prompto’s got Umbra in the passenger seat, tolerating a hug. Both of their faces are sticking out the window into the breeze. The car passes through places that seem a little less ground down and abandoned, and more like they’re just waiting. Here and there, Prompto sees signs of regrowth, reconstruction, and resettlement. He’s starting to feel something like hope. 

A song comes on the radio that sounds like summer.

Then the Crown City rises before them, magnificent and tenacious. Construction cranes criss-cross the almost-familiar skyline. They pass through the checkpoint and over the bridge, and Prompto realizes that it’s the first time they’ve done this together since the Dawn.

Gladio says, “We’re home,” and nothing could be more true.

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say thanks to my lovely fandom friends for all the inspiration and encouragement. Thanks ninemoons42 for the poetry advice! Thanks to the fine people of the r/ffxv discord server for being a good influence, and for sharing your knowledge about Ignis, Eosian geography, climate, politics, and everything else. Thanks to the folks on the ffxv writers server and the ffxv book club server for talking with me about my WIPs. Thanks to everyone who reads and comments on my fic! You guys are the best!!!


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